


The Drug In Me Is You

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Easy Street [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), BDSM Scene, Bathing, Canon Asexual Character, Choking, Consentacles, Established Relationship, Forced Orgasm, M/M, SSC BDSM, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29520537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: “Do I getta come?” Angel asked, breathless and flushed. Alastor nuzzled their noses together.“As often as I can make you,” he promised.Al shows Angel what it feels like when his number is a 10*
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Easy Street [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141313
Comments: 34
Kudos: 189





	The Drug In Me Is You

**Author's Note:**

> *this will make sense if you've read [On My Way To Easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160589) before this, so go forth and do! This can be standalone, but there are a few hints dropped throughout that are nice little easter eggs for those who've been reading along from the start. 
> 
> This is based on the _stunning and delicious art_ of the ineffable [DeeperVisions](https://twitter.com/psychicpains/status/1353791067804504064) on Twitter! The pic is NSFW so careful going in! We wrote this with permission from the artist.

“Angel.”

People had been calling him that for decades. He’d heard it cooed, whined,  _ spat out _ as if it tasted foul.

Alastor’s voice had always wrapped around his name completely differently, imbibing it with life, with purpose. When Alastor called his name, Angel felt like he was actually talking to  _ him, _ and not some construct Angel made up to sell his body more easily. 

There were, of course, several different ways Alastor said his name, from the increasingly exasperated, to the achingly fond.

This was something else entirely. This was the voice that made every hair stand on end, anticipation racing in Angel’s veins. This was the voice that made him snap to attention, abandoning whatever useless craft Charlie had assigned as homework this week, and standing straight and tall. 

Looking down at Alastor never stopped feeling weird, after spending nearly his entire afterlife under Valentino’s thumb, feeling small even at his own towering height. Never did it make him feel more powerful, though, or make Alastor seem any less the intimidating Dom he could be, when the mood struck.

And oh, the mood had clearly struck. Alastor’s eyes were nearly glowing with delight, and his beaming smile was smaller than usual, which meant it was genuine. Angel swallowed. “Yeah, Al?” he managed, aiming for casual and missing it by a mile. Judging by the amused lift of Alastor’s eyebrow, he’d noticed.

“What’s your number, dearling?”

Oh yeah. Angel was getting something  _ good _ tonight. “Ten,” he said. “Always a ten for  _ you _ , Al, you know that.”

Al’s head tilted a little, his eyes narrowed; in that way that cats do when they’re warm and content and feeling safe. Angel shivered again. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The heart  _ on _ his chest started to glow as his cheeks warmed and his smile widened.

_ Satan below, _ he loved him.

“What a coincidence,” Alastor murmured, crossing his arms over his middle.

At that, Angel’s heart threw itself right up into his throat.

He swallowed.

“Oh?” it came out as a squeak. Because surely,  _ surely, _ Al wasn’t feeling a ten. Al  _ never _ felt a ten. But--

“If I’m not interrupting anything--”

“Nope, nothing, I ain’t doing nothin’ Al,”

“Best to occupy you then,” Alastor quipped back, grinning. “You know what they say about idle hands.”

“Okay,” the more Angel spoke, the less he was able to actually speak. He squeaked or whimpered or just breathed out sounds that could possibly be words. But Alastor hardly minded, going by the expression on his face. He reached out and tucked his fingers behind Angel’s ear, thumb stroking his cheek, and Angel  _ melted, _ shivering in pleasure.

“Let’s go to the chaise, hmm?” Alastor murmured, leaning close enough that Angel could feel his breath against his cheek. “Enjoy the view.”

Angel just nodded, a helpless little noise escaping him that Alastor immediately swallowed down, kissing him with such reverence that Angel’s legs nearly went out from under him. What had brought this on?? Whatever it was, Angel hoped he’d be able to do it again.

The chaise was situated just a few feet from the massive wall of windows that overlooked Pentagram City. Alastor sat first, legs crossed at the knee, eyeing Angel in a way that Angel knew meant he was  _ hungry _ . It was flattering to think that in a mood like that, Alastor had chosen  _ Angel _ over murder. 

When Angel went to sit at the other end of the chaise, Alastor stopped him, reaching out to wrap a hand around his bicep, the heat of it felt through Angel’s pink cashmere sweater. 

“You should get more comfortable, don’t you think?” Alastor asked. 

Angel was wearing  _ cashmere _ , and yoga pants, both gifts from Al and therefore the best Pentagram City had to offer. Imported from other circles by unscrupulous little imps. He was as comfortable as it was possible to be, except--

Angel swallowed again. They were  _ not _ going to have sex, he reminded himself. Alastor had made it clear long ago that his own dick was completely off the table, no matter what number they got to. Still, Angel was nervous as he hooked his fingers in the hem of his sweater and lifted it up, slowly, the curve of fluff at his chest not-quite-bouncing as he tugged it off. Alastor didn’t care either way if Angel played at having tits, but Angel couldn’t help but put on a show for him. He turned to face the window as he shimmied out of his yoga pants and lacy panties, showing off the goods. 

“Very  _ good _ , Angel,” Alastor said, his voice a low, crooning hum that slid over Angel like a hot bath. “Come here.” When Angel turned, he patted the seat beside him. Angel sat, giving Al the few inches of space he always did. To his surprise, Alastor tutted at him. 

“What?”

“I think we can do better than that, lovely.” An arm wrapped around Angel’s waist, tugging, and suddenly Angel found himself pressed up entirely against Alastor’s side.

_ This _ was a level of contact that Angel had only ever gotten in bed, when he was already half asleep, and Alastor could wrap around him without fear of Angel reaching back in return. Angel’s face flushed, and he was sure he made a sound, something high and yearning, but it was impossible to hear over the rush of blood in his ears. 

Angel swallowed. “Al--”

“Touch me, sweetling,” Alastor murmured, nuzzling Angel’s throat. “However you wish, hmm? I certainly will do the same.”

Angel couldn’t believe it. He felt like he was in the middle of a  _ very _ wet,  _ very _ pleasant dream. Surely Al wouldn’t let him touch him how Angel wanted… surely he couldn’t--

But he reached up, fingertips stroking over Al’s face, to the edge of his smile, over his teeth, sharp and vicious. He reached up into Alastor’s hair, carding his fingers through it, laughing when it twitched a little, like ears did. He ghosted his fingers over the tiny horns that protruded from Al’s skull, teasing over the sharp prongs.

He felt Alastor touch him back, a hand spread over Angel’s hip, another against his shoulder, sliding down to slip into the fluff on his chest.

“Al--”

“Beautiful thing,” Alastor purred against his ear, making Angel shiver and tremble,  _ painfully _ aroused. When Angel leaned in to kiss him, Alastor hummed in pleasure and kissed him back.

Every time still felt like the first time, that electric shock that flicked against Angel’s tongue, that smell of ozone around them. Angel felt like he was being brought to life, that he was resurrected every time he kissed Alastor, was kissed  _ by _ him. He wanted to be nowhere else.

Well, perhaps in his lap, but this… this was… this was something.

Angel wrapped one set of arms around Alastor’s neck and opened his mouth wider to the kiss.

Alastor returned every bit of Angel’s fervor, if not his desire. Angel knew if he reached down, he would find nothing but the sort of everyday hardness that sometimes arose by contact, rather than the eagerness he himself was feeling. And yet, Alastor never made him feel as if he wanted to be anywhere else. He never acted as if Angel’s needs were something to get over with, so they could go back to life.

He may not have wanted Angel sexually, but he certainly  _ wanted _ him, and he reminded Angel of that with every stroke of his hands down Angel’s back, his sides, his arms.

Alastor had once confided in Angel that he liked kissing, some of the time. It was a comfort level 5 and up sort of touch, but he could enjoy it so long as kissing was all that was expected of him. Today, he seemed to be offering so much more. Angel clung to him, afraid to go too far, to touch him in ways that would startle him back and ruin the whole thing. 

Alastor broke the kiss with a soft hum, nuzzling their noses together. “Are you shy tonight, dearest?” he whispered. “How very unlike you.”

“I don’t wanna upset ya,” Angel murmured. 

“How kind,” Alastor cooed, “but I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of correcting you myself.” 

A shadowy tentacle wrapped itself around Angel’s ankle, slithering it’s way up his calf. 

Angel bit his lip and whimpered, clinging to Alastor’s jacket  _ hard. _ He swallowed.

“You feel really good,” he whispered, arching his neck to kiss beneath Alastor’s jaw, a place he’d  _ never _ been allowed to kiss before. Angel breathed him in, that spicy, fiery, electric smell of him, and spread his legs as another tentacle stroked over the inside of his thigh.

Alastor’s shadows, his tentacles, were all extensions of his self. He’d told Angel before how he could sense everything through his shadows that he could through his skin, but that that proxy made it easier for him to reach out than if he’d reached out with his hand. Since then, Angel had trembled harder, had opened his mouth to kiss the shadowy tendrils with just as much reverence as when he kissed Alastor’s knuckles or the inside of his palm.

“I want you to touch me,” Angel mumbled, turning his face against Al’s neck to kiss there. “I want you to fuck me,”

“I know, sweetling,” Alastor nuzzled his hair, tucked one of his hands beneath Angel’s knee to spread his legs wider. The other was wrapped around his side, claws just a little too-sharp against Angel’s skin, “I’ll take my time with you.”

Angel’s skin surged with color, with heat, the stripes on his arms and legs glowing bright and warm, the heart on his chest pulsing with his heartbeat.

“Please…”

“Pull those sweet, lovely sounds from your throat,” Alastor moved his hand to grasp Angel’s hair, pulling him away so their eyes could meet. “Fill you up,” he said, eyes hooded as he watched Angel’s eyelids flutter. “Make you squirm.”

Another tentacle slipped up between Angel’s legs, curling around his cock and squeezing, just enough to have him leaking.

“Do I getta come?” Angel asked, breathless and flushed. Alastor nuzzled their noses together.

“As often as I can make you,” he promised.

Angel moaned brokenly, as another tendril found its way between his thighs, spreading him open, seeking out where he was most needy. Those words often preceded a lengthy night, and Angel could not imagine spending so long being allowed to touch, to  _ have _ . He wrapped his upper arms around Alastor’s shoulders tighter, his lower set of hands clutching at his chest, as the tentacle pushed a little further into him. It was barely larger than a finger, now, but Angel knew exactly how big they could get inside of him. 

The hand curled underneath Angel’s knee spread him wider, held him open. A  _ real _ hand, Alastor’s hand, and Angel nearly burst. 

“God, you’re everywhere,” he breathed against Alastor’s jaw.

“Not yet,” Alastor whispered back. Angel shivered in his arms. “Open up, sweetling, I know you can take so much more.”

Those first few minutes were always the hardest. Angel had taken more, and faster, but that had been with people who didn’t care if he bled or cried or screamed. And people who would prefer it if he did. Never with Alastor, who had pulled away all at once the one time Angel had a flashback and got the slightest bit teary eyed. 

“Easy, now,” Alastor said, holding Angel just the slightest bit closer, when Angel had not thought there could be any more touch. 

“Don’t let go okay?” Angel whispered, suddenly too emotional to say anything else, to do anything else but cling to Alastor and have him  _ cling back. _

“Not for anything,” Alastor promised him. “Not ever again.”

More shadows wrapped around Angel, tugging his hair, tickling his skin, twisting around his other leg to spread Angel wider still, to hold him balanced. The one within him grew thicker, longer, pressed deeper into Angel until he gasped, his entire body shaking with need.

“Oh fuck,  _ fuck, _ Al, right there…”

“Oh I know, dear heart,” Alastor said,  _ twisting _ just enough to have Angel’s voice pull high and break on a little cry. “Just like that, hmm? You’re being such a good boy for me, so obedient, so still.”

Angel’s entire body quivered with need at the words, his cock leaking. The tentacle stroking him slid away to wrap around his balls instead, tight enough to feel  _ amazing. _

_ “Al!” _

“Hush,” Alastor stroked behind Angel’s ear, just where he liked to be touched, the spot that made him go weak at the knees. He kissed the bridge of Angel’s nose, just watching expressions flit across his face. He was an extraordinary creature; sensitive, beautiful,  _ strong, _ and he was giving himself over to Alastor’s hungers, over to his desires.

Fearless, fearless boy.

Alastor’s shadows shivered, sending a wave of pleasure through Angel in his arms, and he tucked his face against Alastor’s shirt and whimpered. He was so close, so  _ close… _

“Brave boy,” Al murmured, “letting me play with you how I want. Letting me do whatever I wish. I’ll make you  _ scream, _ my darling.”

That was enough, those words. The threat, the  _ promise _ of being taken to pieces was all it took to tip the first domino. Angel clenched around the tendril inside him, claw-like fingers tearing slightly at the fabric of Alastor’s shirt as he came. 

And came. And came. Alastor coaxed him through it, drawing out the aftershocks with careful nudges deep inside him, until Angel was gasping. 

“Can’t,” he panted, hiding his face in Alastor’s throat. “Ah,  _ fuck _ , Al, s’too much.”

“It isn’t,” Alastor assured him, though the tentacle stilled for a moment. He rubbed at Angel’s back, soothing. “You’ve taken so much more, dearheart. I know what your limits are. I wouldn’t push you past them.”

He would, too, and gleefully, but only if Angel was going to enjoy it too. Angel could trust in that, more than he’d ever trusted anyone else. Slowly, he nodded, unclenching his fists, relaxing his body, whimpering when the tendril inside him began to move again in a slow, steady  _ pulse _ . 

“Okay,” Angel managed. “Okay, do it, just, just--”

“I won’t let go,” Alastor promised. Angel sank against him in relief, as another shadow tentacle began to wrap itself around his chest, sliding upwards over his shoulders.

He felt held, secure,  _ safe. _ The shadows wrapped around him like a vest, and then higher. Around his throat, beneath the collar Angel often wore,  _ claiming him _ there.

They’d talked more and more about collars, the longer they were together, and the more Alastor teased about it the more Angel dreamed about it. Wearing a symbol of Alastor’s ownership, for the whole world to see.

For Val to see, if he ever came close enough again.

Angel shuddered and clung closer, letting his head fall back on a sigh. Within him, the tentacle grew thicker, pushed deeper. Angel’s lips parted on a cry of pleasure, and his brows drew tight. And then something… smooth, cool, familiar, traced his lips and touched against his teeth. Angel obediently opened his mouth, trained by years of pain, but what slipped between his lips wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it was extraordinary.

Alastor spread his fingers against Angel’s tongue, stroking there, keeping his mouth open with a deliberate press of his thumb between his teeth. Angel felt his body give in to another quake of pleasure; Al had never touched him like this, had  _ never _ allowed Angel to suck his fingers this way, and now he was pushing deeper,  _ choking _ him--

“Shh, shh, sweetheart, open up for me,” Alastor cooed, tucking Angel a little closer against himself. He replaced the hand on Angel’s knee with a tentacle and stroked over his throat instead, easing his fingers deeper into Angel’s mouth. “Let me see your eyes, sweetling, look at me.”

Alastor was blurry, as if seen through frosted glass. Angel blinked away overstimulated tears, focusing his hazy expression on Alastor’s pleased smile. 

“You’re so very easy, aren’t you?” From any other man, it would have been an insult.  _ Easy little slut _ had been thrown at Angel so often, it might as well have been his name. 

That wasn’t what Alastor meant when he called Angel easy. Angel was easy for  _ him _ , easy to get into that floating, safe headspace. Easy to make feel good. Easy to create  _ want _ within. Angel wanted Alastor so fucking badly. Alastor’s fingers in his mouth were almost too good to be true.

“That’s it,” Alastor purred. His eyes never left Angel’s, the red irises bright in the dim room. “Just like that. Such a good boy.”

Angel moaned, muffled and stuttering around the fingers. He was drooling, at the corners of his lips, but he didn’t want to stop. When Alastor finally pulled his fingers free, Angel nearly sobbed. 

“Al,” he rasped. Alastor hushed him, and then something else prodded at his lips, slithering and squirming between them. 

_ Oh God… _

Angel opened his throat for him, choked down the shadow limb that slid into him, closing off his air, making him feel like he was going to be torn in half, filled as he was from both ends.

And then another wrapped around his throat and Angel’s eyes rolled back.

_ Kill me, tear me to pieces, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m  _ **_yours._ **

“Look how good you’re being for me,” Alastor’s voice felt like it was  _ inside _ him, etched into his bones. Angel felt him kiss behind his ear, shuddered as he bit down against his earlobe and tugged. “You’d let me do it, wouldn’t you? You’d let me push you into unconsciousness, you’d let me consume you.”

_ Yes! _

Angel tried to make a sound, but he  _ couldn’t, _ he was silenced, and helpless and  _ full _ and the happiest he had ever been, in life and unlife.

Alastor loved him. He would love him to death. And Angel would let him.

Between his legs, the tentacle  _ twisted, _ turned just so, rubbed just there, and Angel came again with a shudder, choking wetly on the thing between his lips.

Alastor licked a long line up Angel’s throat, from between his collarbones to the tip of his chin. And then the tentacle choking Angel disappeared, leaving him gasping and empty. Al cupped Angel’s face with both hands and kissed him, slipping his tongue in against Angel’s, stealing his breath once more.

After, Angel nearly collapsed against him. He had never made it fully into Alastor’s lap, but he was draped over him now, feeling heavy and uncoordinated. Alastor held him as if he weighed nothing, and to be fair, despite his height advantage, it was very close to the truth with his spindly hell-fashioned body. For once, Angel was truly grateful for his unusual proportions; it meant he could snuggle close and Al would  _ let him _ . 

“You did so well,” Alastor told him. Angel practically purred nuzzling his nose along Alastor’s throat. He kept waiting for it to end, for Alastor to slowly stiffen up and shove him away, but it didn’t. 

“I like this,” Angel mumbled, his voice raspy and raw. His throat ached, and he was going to need a long, hot soak after being worked over so thoroughly. “I wish--” he cut himself off. The last thing Alastor needed was to feel guilty about his own boundaries. Yes, Angel wished he could have cuddles more often, but never at Alastor’s expense. 

“Once in a while,” Alastor assured him, sounding not the least bit upset. “You’ll have to let me decide the times--”

“Of  _ course _ I will.”

“--but I’m sure there will be other days where this is feasible. And you can relax those tense shoulders, sweetling, I am not about to dump you to the floor when you need aftercare.”

“‘M okay,” Angel tried to assure him, but Alastor hummed, that odd electric sound that suggested it wasn’t his vocal cords making it, but the energy around him instead.

“You need aftercare, my dear, and I am more than happy to provide.”

Angel sagged a little more against him, and let himself  _ feel. _ He was shaking, his adrenaline was zipping through him like an icy blade, he was tired, and sore in the best possible way. He was drooling, still, right over Al’s jacket, and Al  _ didn’t care. _ He held him close and breathed slowly, in and out, for Angel to follow along, easing his stuttered breathing to something more manageable, something comfortable.

And then a shiver in reality, a hush, and suddenly they were in the bathroom, Angel tucked against Alastor’s front bridal-style.

“Let’s get you nice and clean,” Alastor said, kissing Angel’s hair. The tub started to fill, the smell of lavender and sandalwood swirled around them, and Angel felt his eyes close. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do more than just float there, in the tub, eventually getting up enough energy to clean up where absolutely necessary, but he wasn’t sure he was up for a full proper bath.

He must have dozed, because the next thing he knew he was being lowered into the water, but Alastor’s arms weren’t letting him go. He was  _ still holding Angel. _

“Your… your clothes--”

“Hush, sweet boy, clothes are no matter.”

“But--”

“Shh,” by this point, Angel was fully immersed in the water, and  _ so was Alastor. _ Still dressed primly, properly, water soaking into his red shirt and jacket, darkening the fabric. Angel looked up at him, eyes blurred by tears again.

“You don’t gotta,” he mumbled, but there was no way in hell he was letting Alastor go now.

“I think you’ll find I do, indeed, ‘gotta,’” Alastor said, and the word sounded so  _ ridiculous _ in his voice that Angel could do nothing but snicker. Alastor tangled his fingers gently in Angel’s hair and turned him just enough to press a kiss to his cheeks. “I want you to relax,” he instructed, his tone firm and unyielding. “Let go. I have you. There is no need to try and impress me with how fast you can be ‘okay’ again.”

Angel couldn’t have argued that, even if he’d wanted to. He closed his eyes, drifting in the hot water, the soothing scents washing over him, Alastor warm and sturdy against his back.

Angel fell asleep in his arms just as Alastor began to wash him clean of the mess they’d made. He snuffled a little in his sleep, much like Nuggs occasionally did, inspiring a sudden rush of fondness in Alastor’s chest. In many ways, he felt much the same as he always had, but there was no denying the ways in which Angel had changed him. 

Angel fussed a little when it came time to get out of the tub, but by now, Alastor knew how to keep him soothed and comforted. He was dry and safely tucked into bed before he could even open his eyes all the way, and a few gentle pets to his hair were enough to get him under again. Alastor stepped back with a sigh, shifting into a dry outfit and stretching. It had been enough physical contact to last a  _ lifetime _ , though he was certainly not going to tell Angel that, and he was ready to indulge in some aftercare for  _ himself _ . Possibly involving restocking his fridge, if nightmares didn’t wake Angel tonight. Alastor turned the radio on, a whisper-quiet waltz beginning to play. He flickered out of the room, a bit of his energy devoted to reaching through the radio waves to listen to Angel sleep. 

He would tell him he’d bought out his contract tomorrow.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Love? Ping us over on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/sw_writestuff), [TUMBLR](https://stratsandwhiskeywritestuff.tumblr.com/), or [CURIOUSCAT](https://curiouscat.me/sw_writestuff)!
> 
>  _I've lost my god damn mind,  
>  It happens all the time,  
> I can't believe I'm actually  
> Meant to be here,  
> Trying to consume,  
> The drug in me is you_  
> \- The Drug In Me Is You by Falling in Reverse
> 
> (Remember, kids, always ask permission and credit those who inspire you!)


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